


Sharpies & Scars

by CrazyCase5150



Series: ADSOM Canon Ended Sadly, Here's Gays [2]
Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyCase5150/pseuds/CrazyCase5150
Summary: A high school AU for theAntariIdiots and their friends and family.Kell is emo.Holland is a transfer student.Lila is a genderfluid goth.Rhy is a poly queen.Alucard is a clown.Ojka is a lesbian.Nasi is smol.(on hiatus due to family issues and my focus on Leaf Green)
Relationships: Alucard Emery/Rhy Maresh, Kell Maresh/Holland Vosijk, Ojka/Lila Bard
Series: ADSOM Canon Ended Sadly, Here's Gays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001994
Comments: 16
Kudos: 9





	1. Tuesday: Exceptional Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The writing for this chapter is kind of shit no matter how many times I edit it, but it gets better, so no one kill me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unrequited love is hard 
> 
> (not being friendzoned, because the friendzone is bullsh*t.)  
> https://medium.com/@pricelindy/the-friendzone-doesnt-exist-33ce35d4f0cb]

Kell’s phone dinged just as the buzzer faded out.

“Saved by the bell~,” his screen said.

Kell nearly smiled. Principal Serense called for an assembly every Tuesday, and halfway through the year, it was starting to get boring. Kell liked the old guy, but assemblies were always too loud and they bugged him more than they should have. Maybe the only good thing about it was that he could talk to Lila over text from his assigned seat as he munched on his homemade sandwich, having an excuse to not do his homework during the lunch hour.

Lila was waiting for him by the door to the gym as everyone filed out. “Hey, loser.” She grinned up at him, a mocking lilt to the words.

Lila Bard was scary, but funny, and she had the best ideas for when he was bored and felt like partaking in some of her teenage rebellion. She had access to weed, spray paint, and she always, always had knives on her. She was a bad influence, he knew, but she was also one of the few people in the whole stupid school he liked. 

Or, for that matter, who liked him. Kell was not particularly likable, he knew. 

Today she was wearing ripped black skinny jeans, a black tank top with a white cat that had a star on its forehead, and her black and white converse that were beaten half to death from years of use. Her hair was dark and straight, cut short with scissors at her jawline, making her look androgynous.

Lila was in the foster system, so she didn’t have a lot of care given to her or her basic needs, like food and clothes and decent parenting, which resulted in her looking like a homeless goth half the time, not to mention being unhealthily thin. Her body was full of angles and sharp corners, and he had seen her pass as a guy more than once. She really could, if she dressed like it, and some of the time even when she was dressed the most feminine she got, like today.

His face involuntarily lifted at the sight of her lopsided smile, and he stuck his tongue out. “Hey, dumbass,” he said, ridiculing her singsong tone.

“What’s that? An insult? Oh, Kell, I’m wounded beyond repair.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm as she flashed a smile again.

He grabbed her phone.

“Hey, wait, fuck you! Damn your tallness!”

He snickered and sidestepped as she jumped up and tried to snatch her phone back. “I prefer _‘your highness,’_ Miss Lila.”

She stopped, blinked, and then doubled over laughing. “Oh, fuck!” She wheezed lightly, catching her breath. “Kell, where did you even come up with that?” She snickered, smiling wide.

He grinned. “I’m not that funny. Don’t give me false hope!”

“Sometimes you are.” She snickered again. “Your _tallness._ Ha. I’m using that on your dork brother.”

Kell raised an eyebrow, shouldering his backpack as they headed down the hallway. “Good luck.”

“What?” she asked. “He is kinda princely. It’s a little dumb sometimes, but he could honestly be the quarterback if he bothered to do any sports. Quarterbacks are like the princes of high school.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. He does plenty of stuff at home though, so unless Maxim decided to make him do extracurriculars, he’s already as fit as he needs to be.”

Lila stopped smiling and snuck a look at him that she thought he didn’t notice. “How are things going with him, by the way?”

“With Rhy?” he asked, trying to play dumb. He hated talking about this.

“No, idiot. _Maxim._ Your shit father.”

His mouth twisted in what might and might not have been a smile. “No worse than usual, but you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Oh stuff it. No worse just means no _better,_ and what are friends for?”

He glanced at her through the mop of hair he let grow out on one side. “What?”

“Venting.”

He scowled, shouldering his backpack, since it had begun to slip off, but the motion shifted his red hair. “Fine. I guess. I just… I don’t know what the point of being adopted _ten fucking years ago_ was if I’m still treated like a scrappy puppy off the streets or a charity case instead of a son.” He adjusted his hair so it fell back into place. “He can’t even look at me in the eyes. I hate it.”

_Nobody can._

Lila stopped walking and poked him in the side. “Hey, scarecrow, hold up.”

He rolled his eyes at the nickname. “What?”

She stood up on her toes and brushed his hair from his right eye, and stared him down dead on in the face. “Your eyes are fine.”

_Well, nobody but you and Rhy._

The thing about Kell’s eye was that he had _really weird_ heterochromia. His left eye was blue, and his right one was black. Not like he'd been punched in the face, but as in his iris was a combination of grays and blacks. You could still see the smudges and lines that separated it from just looking like his pupil, but it was disturbing and it put people on edge, so he grew his hair out to cover it.

Lila had suggested an eyepatch once. She’d said it’d make him look like a pirate.

He looked away. “Sorry. At least I have both of mine, right?” He tried for humor, but it just came out guilty. He winced. “Don’t stab me.”

Lila glared up at him with her own mismatched eyes. She’d told him once, when they were high behind the dumpsters after school, that one of her eyes was fake. “Shut _up,_ fuckhead.”

He was about to apologize and pull away, but she poked him in the side again, harder than before. “Don’t go blaming yourself for that shit. I am perfectly fine with one eye. I hold no grudge against you for having things I do not, because people don’t choose the hand they get in life. You are also plenty fucked up, even if you have a house. That’s normal around here, I don’t know if you’ve heard, and I don’t hate you for it.” She stuck her tongue out. “Even if normal people are lame.”

He sighed, smiling. “Oh, I’m _lame_ now?”

“Yes," She said primly, stopping and spinning on her heel to drop into a dramatic bow in the same motion. “This is my class. Thank you for escorting me, good sir.”

“Well, somebody’s gotta make you go.” 

“More lame points, Maresh!” She called behind her as she slipped in the door. 

He smiled tiredly. 

He liked Lila. He really did. She was terrifying and reckless and crazy and strange, and he knew he had no chance. For one, she was into girls. For two, if they ended their hypothetical relationship on a bad note, he was mildly concerned he’d end up with a knife in his back. Literally. 

They were good friends, and he didn’t want to ruin it, so he kept his mouth shut. 

Still, as Rhy put it, he’d be mooning over her until he found somebody else.

Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs to his next class.


	2. Tuesday: Tripping over Types

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherly fluff~
> 
> Also a certain green eyed someone being quietly inconspicuous in the corner

He was so hot.

It should have been illegal to be that hot.

His skin was tan like warm bread, his hair was the color of cinnamon, his jawline was sharp, lined with the faintest bit of teenage stubble, and he had a _piercing._ He looked so good in blue, and it was the only color he ever wore. Blue and black jacket, blue and grey shirt, blue and white sneakers, blue jeans, and blue eyes. Good lord, Alucard Emery would be the death of him.

Pale fingers snapped in front of his eyes. “Rhy!”

He jumped. “Shit, what?”

Kell glared at him. “Can my idiot brother _please_ stop ogling that degenerate moron long enough that we can get to my locker and go home? Please? I'm done with Mr. Vortalis.” It was three forty-five, so nobody was really here. Rhy had been talking to friends outside the hallway while Kell talked to a teacher about an assignment down the hall, which was why they were here so late.

Rhy sighed, sneaking another glance at Alucard, and nodded. 

Kell rolled his eyes. “You’re like a lovesick puppy. Have you even talked to him?”

"Yes, as a matter of fact! We're in a table group in math. He's really smart."

"But he's such a fucking _dick!"_ Kell snapped out the sentence as they turned the corner to the stairway. "How can you even _like_ someone like that?"

“Oh, and you’re so much better when it comes to Lila?”

“Hey! Shut up!”

Rhy grinned. “Absolutely never.” He followed an embarrassed Kell up the stairs. “Oh, speaking of crushes, guess what?”

“Oh no. What?”

“New student, he was in my class. He was as tall as you, but he definitely had more build.”

“Oh really?” Kell’s voice said that he wasn’t really that interested, just worried that Rhy was going to try and befriend some unknowing transfer boy, but Rhy knew he'd care in a moment.

“Yes.” He paused, letting the silence draw out. “I think he’s your type.”

Kell tripped over the final step, backpack falling off his shoulder as he landed on his hands and knees. “Jesus!” He whipped his head around to glare at Rhy, hair flying away from his eye for a small second. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, he’s scowly, he’s pale with dark hair, he dresses weird, his backpack is a mess, and he looks like he could kill you without trying.”

Kell made a _pfft_ noise as he picked up his bag and got to his feet. “It just sounds like you’re describing Lila.” They walked past the doorframe of the stairway bubble to the now nearly deserted hallway. There were a few students talking to teachers in classrooms, but nobody was in the hall, not really.

“Exactly! The only difference besides height is that he’s very quiet and she’s very… not.”

Kell rolled his eyes as they rounded the corner. “Good to know, but I’ll save deciding whether or not he’s interesting until I’ve actually met him. Do you even know his name?”

Rhy hesitated. "Ms. Isra didn't make him introduce himself."

Kell stopped dead in his tracks. "No."

"Yes!"

"But that's like her whole thing, man, it's what she's known for here! She makes literally _everyone_ go up and talk in front of the class! Especially if there's a damn transfer kid! It's how she shows who's in charge!" Kell's eyes were wide.

"Yeah."

"Holy fuck. Rhy, whatever IEP he's got, I want it."

"He's not in the Academic Support class, so he might not even have one."

"How would you know that?"

Rhy shrugged, smiling. “I might have snuck a peek at his schedule while he wasn’t looking.”

“You _what?”_

“Oh, don’t act like you’re surprised. It’s _me._ I have to make sure whoever he is isn’t someone who might cause problems, especially since I know deep in my heart that you’re going to crush on him.”

Kell made an exasperated noise. “Why did you bring up his classes?”

“Because he’s in your first one tomorrow.”

Kell almost tripped again, and they hadn’t even reached his locker yet. Rhy almost wanted to leave him be, but this was too much fun. “What?”

“You heard me.” He smirked as Kell then tried to scramble his way through two coherent sentences.

“Rhy, you- If you’re so sure I’d like him, why didn’t you fucking start with that? Now I’m going to be worrying about that shit for the next- until I fucking walk in!”

Rhy made a smug face “Not quite.”

Kell cursed as the locker dial snubbed him. “What does that mean?”

“You’re _always_ early on B days.” 

“For fuck’s sake, that’s not the point,” Kell grumbled as he opened his locker on the third try.

Rhy burst out laughing. “Oh come on! Let me have some fun here, you’re going to be in love with your genderfluid lesbian goth until you find someone else, and this is funny as shit. You’re already nervous about someone you haven’t even met.” He bit his tongue to keep from giggling.

Kell scowled as he grabbed his things. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me.”

“I know. It’s fucking annoying.” Rhy laughed again, and Kell smiled, the annoyance sliding off his face. 

“Hey! There we go!”

Kell, still smiling a little, raised a brow. “What?”

“I think me and your unrequited love are the only two people who can make you smile.” Rhy poked him in the side as he shut his locker.

Kell shoved him playfully, the hint of a smile still in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, shut up, you irredeemable piece of shit.”

Rhy flashed a grin. “Never! Bet you can’t catch me!” He started jogging down the hallway, voice taunting. “Come and try if you dare!”

Kell snickered. “I have longer legs, asshole!” He shouldered his backpack and took off in a jog after Rhy, who laughed and started running.

“Yes, but you have no meat on your bones! I’ve got more muscle than you!”

“I’ll fuckin’ get you anyway!” Kell sprinted after him, grinning, and Rhy was so fazed by the look on his brother’s face that he didn’t run as fast as he could, and as such he didn’t notice Kell’s arms trapping him in a headlock until he was already stuck. He squirmed, but only for appearances.

“What was that about muscle, shithead? Hm?” Kell cracked up and let him go, but Rhy had won this round. 

He might have been caught up to, and he might have been trapped in a headlock, but his main goal was always to make Kell happy. Kell was laughing. Rhy had won, even if Kell didn’t know.

Neither of them noticed the senior in the corner watching them silently.


	3. Wednesday: Hallway Harrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dick you forgot about is an asshole to the new guy

Holland trudged up the steps and pushed open the door, shaking his head to get the rainwater out of his hair. It was his fault really, for getting up so late. He’d missed the bus, so he’d had to come to school on foot in the rain. He was still technically early, but it was still a pain in the ass.

He considered taking his wet coat off, but he didn’t want to take the risk of his sleeves riding up even for a second, so he just shouldered his backpack and stuck his wet glasses in his coat pocket.

He made his way up the steps, remembering that his fifth period was in room 211. He glanced around, a little displeased at how many people there were this early, but it didn’t matter. If he counted right, classroom 211 would be straight down that hallway and around the corner. 

Just as he started to walk forward, a guy stepped in front of him. A white boy, a junior by the look of him, and he gave Holland a creepy smile. “Hey there. You new?”

Holland didn’t like this at all, but he nodded.

“I’m Powell. You want to come eat lunch with us later?” He gestured to a group of apparent delinquents in a corner. About a third of them were watching the interaction, and the rest were on their phones. They all had ratty clothes and loud colors on their backpacks, some with tattoos and some with excess piercings, and Holland could not have given less of a shit at their attempt to look cool.

He knew this guy wanted to befriend him because he was intimidating, and that he thought Holland was stupid. The kind of dumb bodyguard you saw in movies that was all muscle and no brain.

He shook his head.

Powell did not take this nicely. “Why no? Why are you so quiet? You planning to shoot us up or something? Your tall brooding bullshit is unappreciated, and nobody gives a fuck about you. Seriously, keep your guns to yourself,” he said, and then added with a smirk, “in the most literal sense.”

Wow. That was quite a jump.

A boy with auburn hair stepped forward from where he’d previously been glaring. He looked the vaguest bit familiar. “Powell, shut your fucking mouth.” 

His voice was low and might have been dangerous if he weren’t so skinny. He was slouching, hands in his pockets, and he didn’t look like he was aggressive very often. He was the stereotype of the awkward emo kid, with a long sleeved striped grey shirt, his messy hair kind of grown out over one eye, and converse paired with baggy black jeans.

A malnourished goth boy in the corner tensed, eyes flicking between the redhead and the angry guy. Obviously protective, but of which one?

“Like you’re any fucking better, Kell! Your emo ass might as well be helping with him, considering you’re defending him! Who knows?” The antagonizing white boy was clearly enjoying the fact that the ginger had stepped in. One more person to piss off, Holland supposed.

“Me, fuckhead.” A pretty Black boy stepped in, and the ginger shot him a grateful look. They seemed close. 

Wait. _Oh._

Holland blinked, remembering the two boys in the hallway from before, at the ginger’s locker. That was where he’d seen them before. The ginger guy was scowly, and the pretty Black boy had gone out of his way to make him laugh.

“I don’t know much about the new guy, but if Kell thinks he’s fine then I don’t care. My problem is you accusing them of being school shooters.” He took a menacing step forward. “I advise you to shut the hell up.”

The Powell guy sneered. “You don’t even _do_ sports here. What are you gonna do, rich boy? Hit me?”

Another person stepped in, this time a pretty tan guy dressed head to toe in blue. “Not unless I do it first.”

Powell started to look cornered, suddenly aware of all the phones out in the hallway. “You wanna go, you fucking queer?”

The tan boy gave him a winning smile. “I _really_ do.”

“Fucking try it! I’m just trying to save you idiots from getting _shot!”_

The red haired boy took another step forward. “Would you shut up, you stupid fucking walnut?”

_Walnut?_ That was a new one.

“The guy literally hasn’t even been here for half a week, so shut your goddamn mouth and fuck right off! Since you’re incapable of not being a dick, could you just be a dick to those of us who are at least used to it?”

Powell made a last attempt at a cutting jab. “The fags, the pretty blue boy, and the retard! It’s not like it’d be an unexpected turn of events, considering how you dress and the people you hang out with.” 

The crowd murmured at the vulgar words.

The thin goth boy who had been silent up until now stepped out from next to a wall, one hand in his pocket. “The fuck are you implying?” 

Oh. Maybe not a boy? Trans? The voice was a little too high to be a male’s. Holland didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to assume, because now there was no point. The guy who had started yelling at him had just been cornered by an interesting collection of four people. Two different sides of the outcast spectrum and two popular boys, at least one of which was allegedly queer. Interesting.

This was the first point in Holland’s time of jumping from school to school as an ever moving transfer student that anyone had ever stepped in when he was being harassed. He’d learned to not care since there wasn’t much he could do anyway, but the assist was… kind of nice.

Powell made a face. “Four to one is hardly fair.”

The goth person stuck their tongue out. “Nobody gives a damn. I stepped in because you were threatening these three idiots you insulted me. Blue here stepped in because you insulted Rhy, and Rhy stepped in because you insulted tall, sad and cranky over here.” They jabbed a thumb at the ginger boy, who glared for a moment before shaking his head. “You went out of your way to piss all of us off, so now I feel like we should get to take turns.” 

They smiled wickedly, pulling a switchblade out of the pocket they’d had their hand in.

Everyone in the hallway tensed, and one boy let out a yelp. 

Blue, as the brown kid had been referred to, rolled his eyes. “Bard, I understand the urge, but if you get expelled then who’s going to hang around the sad one?” He pointed at the tall emo boy, who, apparently annoyed at being continually referred to with mildly demeaning words instead of his own name, rolled his eyes.

Well, eye, from what Holland could see. His hair didn’t cover an entire half of his face, straightened and brushed and dyed as if he was part of some shitty emo band like the rest of his outfit would suggest, just grown out over one side a little more than anywhere else, so his right eye wasn’t visible.

A short curvy girl pushed forward from the crowd. “He’s right; you’ve all made your point, don’t actually _hurt_ him.”

The goth frowned. “But it was just getting fun, Calla.” They still closed the knife and put it back, but it was done regretfully.

The Black boy hadn’t taken his eyes off Powell, and he stepped forward. Powell shifted uncomfortably, back against the wall. “Get the fuck out of here before you have to see a dentist.”

Powell glared, but stalked down the hallway.


	4. Wendsday: Irritation and Impressions

Powell glared, but stalked down the hallway.

The air was still tense, but the people started to disperse, furiously whispering. The ginger boy nudged the Black one and pulled him off to the side, trying to calm him down. He put his hand on his shoulder, and Holland felt irritation rise, but he didn’t know why. The goth and Blue glanced at each other and then at him, and nodded in unison.

Blue strolled up to him, and Holland raised a brow. “Sorry Powell sucks. He’s quite literally really stupid. That’s what years of underage drinking does to you.”

Holland lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, and the goth stepped forward too. “Are you not going to thank us?”

He shrugged again, face impassive, trying to give off the vibe of _I couldn’t care either way._

The goth’s eyebrows furrowed, but Blue flashed a smile. “I like you, you’re interesting.” He leaned in and up a little, almost as if for a kiss. “All mysterious and shit. It’s intriguing.”

The goth made a retching noise, and Holland snorted, pushing Blue by the forehead away with one finger. Blue put his hands up in surrender. “That’s a no. You’re probably straight, but you’re still cute, and exactly _someone’s_ type.” He shot the goth a look, and they both grinned at each other. 

“Very much so. He’ll never admit it, but we all know it’s true.”

Holland felt a flash of relief that one, Blue had backed away when Holland made it clear he wasn’t interested, and two, that the someone who’s type he was wasn’t the goth with a knife who seemed the tiniest bit unhinged.

The two interrogated him for another couple minutes, asking him questions, but he only really answered the yes or no ones. He couldn’t exactly do much else.

They were interrupted by the bell, the one that signaled ‘get to class, it starts in like two minutes.’

The goth and Blue gave each other another knowing look, and then both looked at Holland with twin unnerving smiles. “Have fun.”

He blinked, equally annoyed, puzzled, and already tired of now only his second day here. He made his way to the classroom and filed in with all the other students, trying to slip past and go find a seat, but the teacher looked up and called him to the side.

“Holland Vosijk, yes?”

Holland nodded, looking at the old man. He had to be in his fifties, with slightly graying hair, but he had kind brown eyes and laugh lines around his mouth.

“I’ve got a note from your foster parents,” he said. Holland blinked blankly, and the man tilted his head. “You’re legally mute, yes?”

Holland hesitated, but nodded. 

The teacher looked thoughtful. “I’ll have to schedule an IEP, but in the meantime, I can’t exactly completely ignore you in class.” He tapped his lips with one wrinkled hand, and Holland noticed tattoos on his knuckles. “I’ll call on you for yes or no questions until I can talk to you privately. Could you come by for lunch?”

Holland nodded.

“Great.” He held out his hand. “I’m Mr. Vortalis.”

Holland paused for a moment. This guy seemed nice enough. Holland didn’t like touching people, and he didn’t want his sleeves to ride up, but he didn’t want to upset the first person that talked to him who seemed to actually have his best interests in mind, either.

He shook the teacher’s hand.

“Wonderful,” Mr. Vortalis said. “I don’t do assigned seats unless people are being immature, but you seem fine, so feel free to sit wherever. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Holland turned to go find an empty seat nearest to the door, only to find the whole of the class staring at him and whispering.

Shit.

He knew he wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous person, six feet tall, dressed in grey and black, pale skin almost entirely covered by his clothes. He looked, to put it simply, out of place.

He kept his face impassive, almost by reflex at this point, and walked to the only empty seat, which was by the window on the other side of the room. He sat down, opened his bag, and rummaged around until he found a mechanical pencil. As he pulled out some paper to write down whatever the lame warm up in the class was, a student raised her hand.

“Mr. Vortalis?” the girl asked. 

“Yes?” responded the teacher as he picked up a marker for the whiteboard.

“Is the new guy not going to introduce himself like he’d be supposed to in Ms. Isra’s class?” She sounded annoying. Her voice was too high, grating like the sound of an aggravated bird. A bird who was asking him to stand in front of the class and talk, when he could not. Holland immediately did not like her.

Mr. Vortalis made a face, irritated at the mention of some other teacher. “This is not Ms. Isra’s class, it is mine, and Mr. Vosijk is not… talkative.”

The girl turned to look at Holland, raising a brow, and Holland met her gaze dead on. “Well, what’s his first name?”

Mr. Vortalis sighed. “You can ask him yourself, _after _class, miss Vasrin.”__

____

Holland thought she’d be like one of the girls from the other schools who pined after him and wouldn’t leave him alone, but her curiosity was apparently more suspicion than anything else, as she glared at Holland and dragged her thumb across her neck in the universal sign of _Fuck Up And I Will Kill You._

____

Holland was not intimidated. He didn’t even know what she was giving him that look for, because the only thing of note he’d done here so far was get bothered in the hallway.

____

The girl gave him a final glare before turning back around.

____

As the teacher started writing down the notes for the day, Holland sighed in resignation and annoyance. Day two and he was already making enemies.

____

Fantastic.

____


End file.
